Chances
by Mr.Sulu
Summary: What if Sandy and Seth found Ryan while he as hitchhiking at the end of The Model Home?
1. Default Chapter

Chances

Author's Note: Yeah, another story to add to the collection. I seem to have some kind of fascination with The Model Home episode and particularly the fire, oh well. Hope you enjoy this latest story. I look forward to the reviews. There will be another chapter soon.

Summary: What if Sandy and Seth found Ryan as he was hitchhiking at the end of "The Model Home?"

Disclaimer: Own nothing to do with the OC.

Chapter One

Seth Cohen was sitting nervously next to his father Sandy Cohen in the BMW. They were both looking for the same thing, one more willingly than the other. The thing in reality was a person, that person was Ryan Atwood.

Sandy had brought Ryan home the other night with the desire to save the kid from a more harsh upbringing and to give him a chance to become someone. Due to conflicting emotions mainly from Sandy's wife Kirsten, Ryan was bound to go to foster care. Those plans were inexplicably changed however when Ryan decided to run away with the undesired help of Seth.

Ryan was thus a resident of an unfinished model home which Kirsten's fathers' company was building. That is until an envious boy, Luke, decided to trash the whole situation. The confrontation ended with Ryan semi-conscious, the model home ablaze, and the police on the lookout for a runaway sixteen year old that was bound for a group home. Life had just taken a drastic turn for the worse for that sixteen year old.

So Seth and Sandy were each on the lookout for said sixteen year old. Sandy wanted to find Ryan before the cops in order to save him yet again from the consequences that abounded from such a drastic situation. The streets were dark from night and a slight chill hung in the California air. Passing by dark alleys and bare public beaches to no avail, Sandy was beginning to give up hope of ever finding Ryan.

That is until he saw a young man walking ahead in a slight hunch. He fit Ryan's description to a T from the back considering his clothing and general look. At the sound of a vehicle, the young man turned around with his thumb outstretched and he was indeed Ryan Atwood; runaway. Sandy pulled up beside Ryan and rolled down Seth's window. Ryan bent over with considerable effort to see the occupants of the vehicle.

"Yes, it's me," said Sandy when Ryan pulled back quickly from the window," get in, Ryan."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cohen, I can't," said Ryan as he began walking once more. With the headlights shining on him, a telltale limp could be seen as he quickened his pace. Sandy kept pace with him.

"Come on, Ryan, what else are you gonna do? The best thing for you right now is to come with me and get obviously needed medical attention," persuaded Sandy further. Ryan paused in his limping allowing Sandy to once again pull up beside him. Leaning down angrily, he glared at Sandy.

"How the hell do you know what is best for me! Were you there throughout my life! Have you seen what I've seen? I don't think so! I can take care of myself much better than anyone else! I don't need any of you!" he raged. Sandy stared back solemnly with Seth sitting beside him with his head bowed.

"How about you give us a shot? Let us care for you? Let someone else take care of you for once?" responded Sandy calmly. "If you come with me right now, I can get the police off your tail. Whatever trouble you got yourself into tonight can be forgotten. Just come with me now while you still have the chance to change the direction your life is taking."

Ryan walked ahead a few paces and laboriously took a seat on the curb. Laying his head down on his knees, he began to think about the proposition that was just placed in front of him. Looking up, he wiped a hand across his face leaving a mixture of blood and soot on its surface. Standing up, he once again looked in the windows.

"I come with you, there is no hospitals and you will call the police off?" asked Ryan haltingly. Seth looked up solemnly at Ryan. "I don't blame you for anything," whispered Ryan to Seth.

"Right," responded Sandy.

"I'm not going into foster care," stated Ryan, "I can take care of myself more than they can."

"We can always discuss this later, at home, after you have gotten cleaned up a bit," said Sandy. Ryan looked up and down the street and seemed to ponder his situation once more. After another few seconds, he opened the backseat door behind Seth and gingerly sat down. "What happened to you anyway?" asked Sandy after watching Ryan sitting down painfully.

"I guess you'll find out when we discuss me not going to foster care," retorted Ryan. Putting his seatbelt on, Sandy drove off down the road to head home.

As they were driving, Sandy's phone rang.

"Hello?" answered Sandy, "What? There was a fire at the model home? I swear that place is cursed honey. I have him here Kirsten, call off the cops, there is no need for them. No Kirsten. We'll discuss this when we get home, that's where I'm headed. Okay, yep, love you too, bye." Sandy looked in the rearview mirror to see Ryan watching him intently. Giving him a reassuring smile, Snady returned his attention to the road.

When they were five minutes from the Cohen residence, Sandy once again looked at his passenger in the backseat. Ryan was passed out with his head leaning against the window and his arms folded across his chest in a protective gesture. Everytime the BMW hit a bump, Ryan's head bounced off the glass. Sandy was slightly worried about Ryan's condition. He had been passed out for ten minutes now with no telltale signs of surfacing.

He pulled into the driveway as slowly as possible to limit the amount of bumps Ryan's head would take. There were no police cars or officers milling about the driveway, so Sandy was sure Kirsten had kept her word. Pulling the key out of the ignition, he turned toward his son.

"Seth, go inside and make Ryan a cup of herbal tea would you?" asked Sandy mostly to keep his son out of the way. Sandy loved his son, be sometimes he was a bit too energetic for certain situations. When Seth turned around and gazed questionningly at Ryan who was still asleep, Sandy replied, "I'll take care of him, don't worry." Seth reluctantly turned around once more and made his way toward the front door. Seth's continued silence was beginning to worry Sandy more than Ryan right now, and that was saying something since the latter was currently passed out in his backseat with bruises and cuts marring his face, let alone the rest of his body.

Sandy removed himself from the BMW and made his way over to Ryan's side. Opening the door gently, he cradled Ryan's head before it could come barreling out of the open doorway. At the sudden movement, Ryan jerked awake and away from Sandy's touch wincing as he did so at the fast movement.

"How do you feel?" asked Sandy stepping out of the way.

"Fine," hissed Ryan through clenched teeth.

"Clearly," murmured Sandy to himself. "Come on, let's go inside and get you cleaned up. We can save the big talk for tomorrow when we all have our heads on straight."

Ryan hoisted himself out of the car using the backseat and door as leverage. Sandy put his arm around the boy as they made their way through the darkness to the front door.

"I know you don't think so, but Kirsten was worried about you. She was glad when I said that I had found you," revealed Sandy just as they reached the front door. "I was worried about you too. I'm not so sure Seth was because he clearly knew where you were the entire time, but we will get to that tomorrow." Opening the door, Sandy let Ryan walk in first before walking in himself.

When he entered, he found Kirsten tentatively giving Ryan a hug. Pulling him back, she began to inspect him.

"Come with me," said Kirsten guiding Ryan to the first floor bathroom. Sitting him down on the toilet, she went to the vanity and retrieved a washcloth, antiseptic, a few cotten balls, and a bottle of aspirin. After wetting the washcloth, she went over and stood before Ryan who was eyeing her warily.

Kirsten began to clean away what was obviously soot now that it could be seen in light.

"You were staying at the model home weren't you? The one that burnt down?" asked Kirsten as she stroked more soot off. Ryan merely lowered his eyes since Kirsten had ahold of his chin. "I can't say I'm mad at you. But I am a bit disappointed that you didn't just come to me or Sandy for advice. You could have told us you didn't want to go to foster care..."

"And what could you have done about it?" asked Ryan cutting her off. Kirsten stopped wiping for a second and looked Ryan in the eyes.

"We would have figured something out. At least then you wouldn't have been nearly killed in a fire," responded Kirsten as she resumed wiping. "I know I wasn't all that comfortable with you being here at first. I may have been a bit cold and distant, but that was simply because I was trying to protect my family against an unknown element. I didn't know you.I didn't really give you the benefit of the doubt. But now I know what type of person you are. I know how loyal you are, how caring, I know now you would never do anything to harm this family. I just wanted you to know that," said Kirsten. She had gone on to cleansing his wounds during her speech. Every now and then he would grimace or wince, but he was too enthralled with her and what she was saying to pay much attention to the pain.

Within five more minutes, Ryan was in the shower cleaning off the soot and examining his darkening torso.

"Let's just leave it alone until tomorrow,Kirsten," said Sandy taking a gulp of freshly brewed coffee."It has been a long day for all of us. I just want to go to bed and I am sure everyone else feels the same." Kirsten just grabbed her own mug of coffee and made her way upstairs.

Ten minutes later, Ryan came into the kitchen. His hair was still wet and the towel was draped over his left shoulder. The bruises were already starting to darken around his right eye and cheek.

"We have the guest bedroom all set up for you," said Sandy from his position at the counter. Ryan just shook his head slowly. "Come on, I'm sure all you want to do right now is hit the sack." With that said, Sandy turned around and left the kitchen with Ryan trailing closely behind him.

Sandy led him to the room across the hall from Seths' and down the hall from their bedroom.

"Goodnight, kid."

"'Night."


	2. Talking

Chances

Author's Note: Extremely, sorrowfully sorry for the long, harrowing wait for this next chapter. I am serious when I say school has been hectic for the last few months. I just graduated from high school, so I had finals and grad to prepare for as well as many end of the year projects to complete. I hope you can forgive me for such a long wait.

Disclaimer: Nothing that has the name OC is in my name. It all belongs to Josh, baby!

Chapter 2

Sandy was walking outside with his surfboard tucked firmly under his arm when he saw Ryan sitting on one of the lounge chairs that surrounded the pool. And by the looks of it, he had been sitting there for quite some time.

"Hey, kid," greeeted Sandy with his usual morning enthusiasm. He was in the middle of placing his surfboard on the patio floor when Ryan's head shot up in instant surprise revealing a face of many colours. Snayd grimaced just thinking about how much that must throb.

"Hey...um...morning," returned Ryan after clearing his throat after a night of disuse and smoke inhalation. He had been sitting in this chair for the better part of the night trying to decide what to do. Obviously, he hadn't come up with any plan as of yet since he was still sitting here. Sandy took a seat in the lounge chair next to Ryan and looked over at the ocean allowing Ryan to come upon the words he wished to speak. Surfing was going to have to wait, no how much he needed it.

"How's the head?" asked Sandy after a few moments of silence he knew would not be broken unless he opened his own mouth, "looks pretty painful."

"Looks worse than it feels," was the only response Ryan offered before silence once again descended on the duo.

"What are you doing up at this hour anyway? It's only 5:30am," questioned Sandy looking at his watch with a frown. This kid has the weirdest sleeping habits, he thought to himself as he peered at the kid in question.

"Early-riser," responded Ryan shortly. He wasn't going to talk yet, he wasn't ready.

"You're not going to make this easy for me are you," stated Sandy as if reading Ryan's mind. Ryan merely glanced sideways at Sandy and shrugged his shoulders before returning his attention to the ocean beyond. "Look, kid..."

"I'm not a kid!" interrupted Ryan forcefully. He heatedly risked a glanced at Sandy. "I have been taking care of myself longer than you or anyone else can imagine, so don't call me 'kid'." Sandy, too stunned to say another word, just sat in silence staring at Ryan in a whole new light.

"Ryan," began Sandy uncertainly after another few moments of silence, "I may not be able to identify with you personally, but I have some inkling as to what you are going through. I have been dealing with kids...boys in situations like yours for many, many years. I know you may not feel like a kid, but you're only sixteen. Let me help you deal with this."

Ryan, who was staring a hole through the patio, glanced upwards so he was looking at Sandy's right knee. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves and his mind, he lifted his head until he was able to stare Sandy directly in the eyes. Sandy was startled by the intense contact, but refused to back down.

"I'm not going to foster care," stated Ryan evenly, "and if you make me go, I'll only run away again."

"What happened in foster care that makes you so adament about staying away?" asked Sandy. He had wanted to ask this question for a while, but was too afraid he would break Ryan's tedious trust.

"Too many wrong things to speak of," was the only response that Ryan offered. There were too many hurtful things that happened during that one summer in his eighth year. He shuddered at the thought of letting those memories loose.

"I respect your need to keep those things to yourself," said Sandy gently patting Ryan's shoulder, " but without those tidbits I won't be able to understand your aspect of the whole situation." Ryan nodded his but didn't comment any further.

Kirsten, who had been watching Sandy and Ryan interact through the window, filled three mugs with fresh coffee and carefully made her way out onto the patio. She still didn't really trust this kid, but if Sandy saw so much potential in him, then he must be special.

Ryan heard her careful steps and looked up. He gave her a tentative smile when she passed one of the mugs to him. Sipping it, he was pleased to discover it was made just the way he liked it. Kirsten settled herself on the same lounge chair that Sandy occupied and idly sipped her own coffee.

"How are you feeling, Ryan? Would you like some tylenol for any pain?" asked Kirsten when the silence became too heavy.

"No, thanks, I'm fine," answered Ryan. "I'm going to go get a shower. Maybe then this will look less ugly and people will stop asking me how much pain I'm in," he said indicating his face with a wave of his hand. Standing up slowly, he shuffled into the poolhouse to gather his things.

When Ryan got out of the shower, Kirsten was sitting at the counter on one of the stools still drinking her coffee.

"Where's Sandy?" asked Ryan after he had glanced around for the man who had taken him in. He felt bad for how he had snapped at Sandy. The man had taken him out of his abusive home and this was how he repayed him.

"Out surfing," answered Kirsten looking up at the boy who was slowly worming his way into her heart. "You were right," she stated after examining him for a moment. Ryan gazed at her quizzically. "You do look better now and in less 'pain'." Ryan's face lightened as understanding dawned. Smirking in good homour, he pulled cereal out of the cupboard and began to eat out of it until a sharp look from Kirsten sent him to the cupboard once more to retrieve a bowl.

Later on that day, Seth and Ryan were playing a round of Ninja's. Seth was being unusually quiet, which caused Ryan's mind to itch. It wasn't right for the quiet to be heavy with Seth around, especially if a round of playstation was on the go.

After another round, Seth turned to Ryan. "I'm sorry you know," he blurted out after a quick look of constipation that must have been indecision.

"For what?" asked Ryan clearly confused.

"For helping dad track you down and giving away your location," said Seth, "It wasn't very best friend of me."

"I don't blame you for anything Seth. Actually, I'm kind of glad you did."

"You are?" asked Seth incredulously.

"Yeah," responded Ryan casually. "Another round?"

"Uh...Yeah man! You know I am really glad you don't feel the way I thought you felt. Not that I know how you feel cause you're all for the closed and haunted building thing. You know, nobody enters and all that. Oh my God! You know what Summer did today! She..." Ryan rolled his eyes. Maybe he shouldn't have cursed the quiet, he was sure he was going to regret it soon, he was already regretting it.

After five minutes of constant rambling with no end in site, everything stopped when the doorbell rang. Ryan heard heels clicking on the way to the door, so he knew Kirsten was already on her way to answering the door. He could hear her muffled greeting as she opened to door, but what the next words out of the visitors mouth were clear as day. "Hello ma'm, I'm officer Golding, is Ryan Atwood on this premises?"


End file.
